Shieldmaiden
by SwordSkill
Summary: CHAP 2 UP. True, Eowyn of Rohan had said that she would cast off the ways of the shieldmaiden after the War of the Rings. But when an old evil arises, will she gilt sword and clad mail, and be the shieldmaiden once again?
1. Celebration

**Author's Notes:** Thank Iluvatar, it's not another cheesy Legolas romance nor a sickening yaoi/slash! ^^ This work contains SPOILERS for those who have not finished _The Return of the King_ (including the appendices). Apologies if the dialogues are too long, the descriptions too sparse, and the story not as engaging, for not all can be as Lord Tolkien-sama. ^_^ Reviews will be very much appreciated. 

  


**Shieldmaiden**

  


* * *

_ "I stand in Minas Arnor, the Tower of the Sun," she said; "and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren."_ -Eowyn, _The Return of the King_, J.R.R. Tolkien 

* * *

  
Chapter One:  
Celebration

The stable housed horses and foals of both Rohan and Gondor. Straw and hay were scattered neatly in piles, the air was musty yet clean, and the horses overlooked the vast expanse of meadows and homesteads of Ithilien. A woman in white stood beside a grand and noble stallion.

She brushed Rohir's mane, watching chestnut hairs float softy with the wind, waving goodbye to the birds that lined the skies. Horses of Rohan, strong and mighty steeds they were, the pride of the Rohirrim.

"What is this? The Lady of Ithilien tending the horses as one of the stable boys?"

Eowyn smiled, not facing Faramir, who stood not far away. "You startled me, my lord," she said, continuing to brush Rohir.

"Indeed? If I did so, it does not seem to show in my fair wife's person. It seems that she had been alerted of my presence. Then I have not really tamed the shieldmaiden's instincts as of now." Faramir's footsteps neared.

Eowyn permitted a small chuckle as she turned around and threw a well-aimed brush at a grinning Faramir. "My husband, the Steward of Gondor, teases his wife as he would tease the girls in the inns."

Faramir caught the brush deftly with one hand. "Nay, too much of my time were spent in lore and not in women," he replied laughingly. He bent down and kissed his wife's brow. "News from Rohan, my dear."

Eowyn gave a start. "News of my brother Eomer?"

"Perhaps. A Messenger is waiting for us at the chamber."

Eowyn's grey eyes sparkled, lighting the white-grabed lady. "Then let us go in haste," she said, taking her husband's offered arm.

  
  


Emyn Arnen, the Hills of the Royal Water, where the princes of Ithilien lived.

It was most fitting that a magnificent castle, one rivaling Minas Ithil of old, be built for the Lord and Lady of Ithilien, but Lord Faramir had instead built a modest fort which he called Minas Arnen, where he and his wife now dwelled. It was built on terraces on two levels, a very small, miniature imitation of Minas Tirith with less size and grandeur. Yet simple as it looked, it boasted of a strong defense against enemies with its mighty walls and strategic positioning. Inside this fortress was a garden of exquisite beauty, of numerous trees, healing herbs, and countless blooming flowers, all which Lady Eowyn has nurtured with her own hands.

The throne room was bright as many paned windows served as its walls where shafts of sunlight readily passed through and soaked the chamber with light. The panes were stained with light colors that shaded paintings of the great many heroes of Middle-earth. Dotted along the sides of the hall were little fountains in which water flowed in little rivulets, wetting the aisle. Standing beside each of the fountains was a royal guard dressed in mail.

On the ceiling were inscribed many runic designs of the history of Middle-earth. And at the center of the room were two thrones carved out of elvenwood, draped with rich, velvet cloth. At each side of the thrones stood the banners of Gondor and Rohan.

The traveler from Rohan, dressed in brown leather jerkin, cloak, and hood, bowed in obesiance as Faramir and Eowyn entered the room and took their places at the thrones.

"Hail Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn of Ithilien! May the many days of your life be showered with blessings from Iluvatar!" he greeted.

"Greetings, Rider of the Mark," returned Faramir. "Beautiful words you have spoken to me, and they are well-received. What hails from Rohan?"

"Glad tidings from King Eomer, my lord," said the messenger. "He and his wife, her ladyship Queen Lothiriel, call upon you for the grand celebration in Rohan of the birth of their son."

"Great news indeed!" Faramir rejoiced. "What is this son's name?"

"Master Elfwine, sire, who bears a great resemblance with his father and has the peaceful soul of his mother. Shall the lord and the lady join Rohan in this joyful celebration?"

"There shall be no doubt about it!" said Faramir with great spirit.

Yet Eowyn kept silence. Her eyes were staring at the messenger who knelt with his hood not doffed. 

"Take off your hood, Master Rider," she finally said quietly. "Deceive us no longer. For I have played that part once, under another name, and know the signs that can give away one's identity."

The Rider seemed to have flushed, then in a low voice he answered, "Then truly have I seen the Lady Eowyn of Rohan."

He raised his hand to the hem of his hood. It fell off, revealing a raven head, braided, and a young lady's tanned face. Brown eyes shone out and a strong jaw set firmly.

"A woman Rider!" exclaimed Faramir, shooting a meaningful glance at his wife.

"A girl, lordship," corrected the stranger. "I am not yet of age to be called a woman."

"Has my brother made it his hobby of sending female pages for his errands?" asked Eowyn a little dryly.

"No, ladyship, I came on my own will. My brother Rohrithe is one of King Eomer's pages, but I asked him to give me this chance to deliver the king's message."

"For what purpose?" asked Faramir.

The girl looked straight at Eowyn. "To see Lady Eowyn of Rohan and of Ithilien, Slayer of the Nazgul Lord, with my own eyes, to see if the songs sung at home of the Shieldmaiden's valor are true."

Faint color diffused on the Lady's fair face while Faramir burst forth in merry laughs, but a sharp glance from his wife quieted his guffaws.

"What songs?" said Eowyn calmly.

The girl's eyes widened. "Mercy, please don't ask me to sing! I sing queer-like."

"Very well then, what is your name?"

The girl looked relieved as she bowed her head and introduced herself. "Solrithe, daughter of Ardomiel and Elenwin." Then she hastily looked back up. "King Eomer knows of the switch with my brother, and the invitation is true and he _is_ inviting the lord and lady for the celebration. Will you come? I've spent many days in journey, and I must go back soon to tend the horses at home, else Mother will have a fit."

"You do not lie to us about the birth of Elfwine?" asked Faramir, looking amused.

"Indeed not, lord," answered Solrithe. "You have my word. May the sword strike me if I speak false."

"Then you may tell my brother that we will attend this joyous occasion," declared Eowyn. "Safe journey to Riddermark, Solrithe."

Solrithe stood up and bowed again. "Thank you, Lord and Lady."

When she left, Faramir leaned towards his wife, smiling. "She reminds me of someone not far from my heart."

Eowyn gave him a blank expression in return.

***

Meduseld was alive in its jubilation of the birth of Eomer's heir. Singing was heard at every room, laughter echoed throughout the great halls, and the castle was lit from the ground to its golden roof. It was a grand celebration.

Meriadoc Brandybuck, guest of King Eomer, stood on one of the balconies, surveying the night sky with its blanket of sparkling jewels lighting up the entire land of the Rohirrim, as far as his hobbit eyes could see. 

He thought aloud, "If only Frodo was still here; he would have _loved_ the feast we had. Pippin certainly did. And dear old Gandalf, if he hadn't crossed the Sea yet...his fireworks would had been just splendid for this occasion. Where _is_ Strider? It's not like the King to be late for a royal appointment."

"It was the time for Gandalf Grayhame and the Ringbearer to leave," said a voice behind him. "And King Elessar may have had great matters in his hands."

Merry turned to face Lady Eowyn, magnificently clad in linen of white and green, the colors of Rohan. "Lady Eowyn," he greeted, bowing his curly brown head.

"Master Holbytla, Holdwine of Rohan," returned Eowyn with a little curtsy. "And what of the Shire?"

"Quite fine, thank you," replied Merry. "Pippin and I found a new kind of pipe-weed and it's selling like there's no tomorrow. Most successful, if I might say so myself."

"Great is your fascination with herbs, Master Meriadoc. My uncle would had delighted in discussing herblore with you." Eowyn leaned on the stone wall.

A look of sorrow crossed Merry's face. "I know." There was a moment of silence, then Merry's face brightened up. "But let us talk of happier things. Your new nephew certainly looks very fit for the kingship of Rohan in the future."

Eowyn laughed. "And my dear brother wasted no time in proclaiming so."

A chilly wind whistled by and she said, "Come, let us go inside, Master Merry, before the cold wind catches us unguarded."

They entered once again the merrymaking and the sea of familiar faces. Legolas Greenleaf the Elf was talking with Sam, and Gimli son of Gloin was hobnobbing with some of the dwarves of his Glittering Caves of Rohan. Pippin was telling stories of the War of the Rings to the younger Eorlingas, and Faramir and the many lords of Middle-earth talked of the peace of their domain.

"Sister! And Master Holbytla!" Eomer hurried to them and gave each a warm embrace. "Apologies for having not spent much time with you tonight; many guests there were that needed acquainting."

"No reason to fret, Lord Eomer," said Merry. "How is Lady Lothiriel?"

"She is resting at her quarters for she is still a little weak, but she is Dunedain and she shall be up to her feet soon." Eomer's eyes sparkled at the mention of his wife, Imrahil's daughter.

"The last time I saw her was at your wedding, Lord. I would like to see her again soon." Merry glanced at Pippin, still story-telling to the young lords, who were starting to look horrified. "Excuse me, I must remind Pippin not to scare the children too much. He has a tendency to get carried away, he does."

As Merry walked away, Eomer concernedly questioned Eowyn, "Have you seen Lord Aragorn and Lady Arwen? The messengers I sent to them told me that they would come, but I have not yet seen their presence." 

"I'm afraid I have not yet either, brother," said Eowyn. "But about your messengers, you remind me; do you have one of the name Rohrithe who has a sister called Solrithe?"

"Rohrithe and Solrithe," mused the king of Rohan. "Why yes, the girl who took the place of her brother to take my message to you." He shook his head. "Strange of the girl to do so, but I allowed her, remembering how my sister once took the disguise of Dernhelm."

"This is far more different, Eomer. She is only a child."

But before Eomer could answer, a great horn sounded by the great gates of Meduseld, and a herald cried, "Hark! For here comes Isildur's heir, the King of Gondor and of Arnor! Hail King Elessar!"

"Lord Aragorn has arrived!"

"Telcontar! Telcontar!"

"Strider!" Merry grabbed Pippin by the arm and rushed with the tall lords of Men to greet the King of the Reunited Kingdom and the Lord of the Western Lands.

Yet Aragorn was brought into the great chamber garbed in traveler's clothes and a gray elven cloak fastened with the Elfstone. Anduril was gilted on his his hip, and nowhere to be seen was the winged crown nor the robes of Gondor , nor a great host of his soldiers to protect him. He looked not the King, but as the Strider the Ringbearer had first met, Ranger of the Dunedain.

"Hail Lord Eomer! Master Meriadoc, Master Peregrin, Master Samwise, Legolas, and Gimli son of Gloin, old comrades of the Fellowship! Greetings!" But the King's face looked troubled.

"Lord Aragorn!" Eomer bowed in respect. "Where is the Lady Arwen Evenstar?"

The King sighed heavily, saying, "She stays at Minas Tirith, for, even as I rejoice of the birth of your son, alas! I come not to Meduseld to celebrate." And even more he looked tired and haggard as he continued, "I come to warn you, for an awakened evil has risen, and its darkness will cloud over the lands of Middle-earth."

**chapter one, end, 02/06/02, SwordSkill**


	2. Moruin

**Author's Notes:** May the blessings of Iluvatar fall on those who reviewed! Thank you very, very much! ^^

  


**Shieldmaiden**

  
Chapter Two:  
Moruin

And Lord Aragorn called together a council. "Let all lords of domains hear the tale of malice I have to tell, and decide if you shall succor Gondor to defend all that is good in Middle-earth! My companions of the Fellowship, our battle with evil has not yet been consummated; for the memory of Gandalf and the Ringbearer, join me!"

The great nobles listened to their King as he continued, "Let the women and children retire to their rooms, for what I have to reveal are not for the ears of those will not fight against this evil. Great malice is it that this fell news must be made known on the royal birth of Prince Elfwine, but the flow of life must not hinder us."

Faramir turned to bid a safe night to his wife, but Eowyn stood resolute. "I must hear of this evil, Faramir," she said staunchly. "Great shall my sorrow be if there is not something I can contribute to this threat of malevolence."

And Farmir gently replied, "My dear lady, King Elessar's words have fallen on your ears. For a reason that he shall yet disclose, those who will not take up the fight must not hear of it."

"My lord," Eowyn's hand held her husband's arm, "I had fought when the Great Shadow menaced Middle-earth of its presence. I may not fight in this new war, but neither am I faint of heart. I plead you not to send me away."

"Lady of Ithilien." The King of Gondor had been discreetly listening to the exchange as the other people shepherded their families. "I beg of you to forgive me of my intrusion of your privacy, but hearken to your husband's advice. What I have to say concerns only those who are willing to pledge their life to defend the lands of Middle-earth until their very last breath. Do not throw away the most precious jewel Rohan had given to Gondor."

"Then is that all I am, my lords?" asked Eowyn stiffly. "A jewel not to be touched, nor given a life of its own?"

The two men looked at each other.

At length, Faramir said, "My Lord Elessar, I do not wish to disobey your words, but the shieldmaiden in my wife has not yet left her. For as long as evil shall plague the lands, so shall the shieldmaiden remain. She is not like other women, for she has the spirit of battle for righteousness, and that is why I had wished to win her heart."

As Eowyn looked with admiration at her noble husband, King Aragorn relented. "Lady Eowyn, you are most welcome to take part of the council," he said, bowing to her. "Pardon me if I had first hindered you, for I had forgotten of your valor amidst this confusion."

"I cannot promise much of my valor to you, King Elessar," she returned, curtsying back, "but I shall do my best."

"And that is more than enough."

Then as the great doors were closed and the brave people were gathered in the chamber, Lord Aragorn raised his hand. "Behold! On my palm rests the Red Arrow, the token of the Oath of Eorl that Eorl the Young had sworn to Cirion, Steward of Gondor. I, Elessar Telcontar of Gondor, now ask the King of Rohan, Eomer son of Eomund: will you fulfill this Oath in this time of need?"

King Eomer stood up and in a strong voice he proclaimed, "Let this be known to all of Rohan! All that Rohan can give shall be given to the aid of Gondor and the King! Naught shall Rohan refuse to Lord Aragorn!"

Unanimous cheers from the Eorlingas accompanied this proclamation.

"Legolas Greenleaf the Elf!" called Aragorn. "We had been comrades during the destruction of the Ring. The Fellowship is now dissolved, but I ask of you to lend us your bow and arrow. Will you or no?"

"Lord Elessar," Legolas bowed, "every shafted arrow shot from my bow shall be for the aid of Gondor."

"A Dwarf will never be outdone by an Elf!" declared Gimli son of Gloin. "And so shall the Khazad Gimli's axe hew heads for the King of Gondor!"

"And the Halflings of the Shire, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Mariadoc Brandybuck," requested Aragorn. "Will you join us, dear Periannath?"

"No doubt about it!" answered Sam. "Mister Frodo would have given his full support, and no questions asked!"

"Hear, hear!" cheered Merry and Pippin.

And so did all the other lords and people give their word of honour for Gondor. And Aragorn said, greatly touched, "Gondor shall not forget of these great acts of bravery, for even though I have not told you of the evil, you have given your heartfelt oaths in advance. Let this be known as the Great Oaths-taking of the Fourth Age!" Then he lowered his voice, saying, "Now will I let my tale of woe be unconcealed."

And all listened as the King of Gondor spoke.

  


"Many days ago, whilst I sat upon the throne of the Hall of the Kings, two of my men came in bringing an Orc in chains. They had caught him after witnessing with their own eyes how he had attempted to kill some animals of a family in the walls of Minas Tirith. As I pondered what sentence to give the foul creature, he spat upon the floor of the Tower and in his fell language said strings of speech which I could not comprehend. Yet one word I caught: Moruin.

Aragorn gazed at the faces of those before him. "Moruin, the Black Flame. Even as I threw the Orc to the dungeons, still the word he had uttered sent chills on my spine. And by some mysterious urge, I rushed to the secret place where I kept the palantir of Orthanc. I threw off the mantle and looked into the Seeing-stone. The darkness dimmed, and to my great consternation, I faced the hooded, invisible visage of a Black Rider."

A general gasp spreaded across the audience.

"Lord Elessar!" called out Eomer. "Were not the Nine Nazgul destroyed with the unmaking of the Ring, and ultimately of the Dark Lord?"

"Nine, you say!" cried the King. "Alas! if only that were so! For nay, there were not only nine, yet ten of the Black Riders!"

A shocked silence pervaded the Great Hall. Eowyn's heart beat wildly. Ten Fell Riders!

"People of the Council!" Aragorn raised his voice. "An old evil of the Dark Lord has awakened and shall threaten the peace of Middle-earth; a Rider whose power could match that of Gandalf the White! Hearken, for as I wrestled with the Tenth Rider through the palantir, I came to know of the reason of his existence."

"After the Lord of the Rings corrupted the Nine Kings of Men into the fell Nazgul with the One Ring, he deceived yet another King with his wiles, but no ring was on the finger of this new Rider, for only nine Rings of Power were forged by the Noldor. And because he bore no ring and thus was not in the power of Isildur's Bane, he was the Black Flame, one who would be untouched by the flames of Orodruin should the Dark Lord be destroyed, one who would keep the flame of the Dark Lord's evil burning."

"Sauron kept him a great secret and by some black magic cast a spell of long sleep on him, only to be awakened after the Dark Lord breathed his last. No Ring of Power is found on him, but great are the powers that Sauron bestowed him for the supremacy to make evil reign in our lands. Unless he be destroyed, another Dark Lord will emerge and destine ruin for Middle-earth."

"Now he uses the Ithil-stone to watch over Middle-earth. Aye, all thought that the Stone of Ithilien was destroyed with the fall of the Dark Lord, but of a heavy heart I tell you that we had made a grave mistake. The Ithil-stone still lives, living with Moruin the Black Flame in Minas Morgul."

"Minas Morgul!" Faramir stood up. "Do you mean Minas Ithil, my lord?"

Aragorn looked at Faramir sadly. "Yes, Lord Faramir. That is another unfortunate story. I sped for Ithilien as soon as I knew, in this garb with the soldiers of Gondor. I remember that you post guards around Minas Ithil, and when I saw a great darkness on the Tower through the palantir, and we rushed over to see what might had befallen them. It was then we beheld the power of Moruin firsthand."

"No time had we to search for the men you posted, for countless numbers of orcs, gathered by Moruin, attacked us as soon as we came in sight of Minas Ithil. The battle raged on for two days, the men of Gondor having the upper hand. But suddenly the Black Rider, clad in sable and astride a foaming horse, came forth form the ruins of Minas Ithil, and from a single swing of his foul sword black flames came out, sending men flying in all direction, flying to their deaths. I barely managed to hide for my life. In such a short span of time my men were dead, the Dark Rider went back to his Tower, and the orcs dispersed. I was left alone among bodies of Orcs and Men alike. None were left save I."

"Beregond!"

Pippin jumped up, horror written over his face. "Beregond!" he repeated. Turning to Faramir, his eyes wide with bewilderment, he cried, "Master Faramir! Didn't you post Beregond, the Captain of your guards, with his band of soldiers to keep watch of Minas Ithil this week?!" 

And Faramir grew pale as in a ghostly voice he uttered, "Woe was I to have sent them to Minas Ithil! Woe!"

Aragorn was visibly appalled by the realization. "I beg of your pardon, Lord Faramir! I should have discovered of this evil beforehand and have warned you! Now you have lost one of your best and loyal men! Curse my slothfulness!"

"You - you were not at fault, Lord Aragorn," said Faramir, his voice trembling. "There are some unforseen things that we cannot control."

"After I survived the battle, I hastened to Minas Arnen to tell you of this great tragedy. But your servants said that you had already left for Rohan, and that is why with all speed I raced on my horse Roheryn here to Meduseld, only to know that one who was killed was the one who loved you most among your soldiers." Aragorn looked grief-stricken, and he fell back on his chair, exhausted.

**chapter two, end, 02/09/02, SwordSkill**


End file.
